Requiem
by Marie E. Brooke
Summary: When Blaise is young, he is innocent, untainted by the dirty truths and lies that the world holds. Yet somehow, against all odds, the Sorting Hat places him in Slytherin, and bit by bit, he slowly starts to recall memories buried under years of negligence. And it is then that Blaise will finally learn the truth. / The life of Blaise Zabini. Rated T for possibly dark themes.


_A/N: I'm starting a brand-new multi-chapter story! :D So...it's going to be Blaise-centric. Originally, I was going to do it about Blaise's many dads, but then I decided that I would just make it Blaise-centric and have it at that. The prologue is about Cornelia Zabini (yes, I gave her a name) and her husband. Well, probably like the second or third husband. I'm not too sure. It'll get more Blaise-centric later, I promise. :) _

_Also; since there's a bunch of fanon interpretations of Blaise made before The Half-Blood Prince, none of which are the actual Blaise (dark-skinned), I had some trouble coming up with the Zabini family's looks. SO I decided to do it half and half. Blaise's mother with be dark-skinned, while Blaise's skin is fair. He's of Italian heritage, by the way, and has dark, wavy hair and high cheekbones and all of that Italian-ish stuff. Not that it really matters (It's not really important to the plot anyways); just so I don't get a buncha hate about inaccuracy and stuff._

_Also, one more thing; ffn messed up my italics the first time I put it in; I tried to fix it, but I may have missed a few, so if you see any, please tell me! Otherwise, nothing else to say. Now...onto the story! :D_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If that was the case, then Neville and Hannah would've never gotten together because Luna and Neville forever!_

* * *

"You can't do this."

A tall, dark-skinned woman with her hair twisted up into an elegant knot - Cornelia Zabini (her maiden name), to be more precise - stands in the threshold of the living room, her arms folded and the corners of her mouth pulled into a frown.

"Oh, Yes I can," a man with blond hair and fair skin - her husband, actually, but she doesn't want to call this raving madman her husband, not after what he's trying to do now - says furiously, determinedly striding over to her and trying to find a way around her. She plants her feet firmly to the ground and holds out her arms, as if trying to protect the doorway.

"Of course you can't," Cornelia counters. "She's - " She stops abruptly when realizing her mistake, her hand flying up to her mouth.

He finishes it for it. "Not a boy." His tone is flat, containing an indescribable bland emotion.

"What about Blaise?" she says, and watches his eyes narrow into slits.

"Blaise," he says, his voice tight, "is the result of your _other_ husband." His lip curls in disgust. "If not for your stupid attachment to him and the fact that the magazines already know about him, the stupid half-blood would've been dead."

Her vision flashes red - how dare he - and she wants so badly to wring his neck like she should've done months ago, but she knows that she has to play this game cleverly in order to win it, lest her two children be killed by the end of the night. She opts for merely clenching her fists instead. "But it's" - she's careful not to use any words that would indicate the gender of their daughter, no matter how demeaning it may be - "your child! Your spouse! Your heir!"

"Exactly! My heir!" he exclaims. "We can't have a girl running around with our fortune, nor should we have a girl hold the honor of being the oldest of our children!" With each spoken word, his voice grows increasing high in pitch until it was only a shrill shriek. "Girls are weak, easily swayed - "

Cornelia's face hardens. Don't ruin it, don't ruin it, don't say it - "What did you just say?" she hisses, her voice dangerously low.

He seems to realize his mistake. "I - I didn't mean it that way," he says hastily in a weak attempt to pacify her.

"She's your child!" she screams, no longer bothering about tactful word choice and games. She'll pay for it later, but better her than her child's life. "She's dependant on you. She's barely had the chance to live, and she sure as hell shouldn't be missing it!" She pauses to catch her breath, panting heavily.

"And she's a girl. We need a heir, a business man, somebody who will make our family name rise up to the top, not some little woman running around in a little tutu. She'll taint our name if she lives!" He's shouting now, starting the shouting match that is sure to follow. Tell me, do you want to burden our daughter with the fact that she is an insult to the family name because she was born first? Because she was a failure?" His booming voice echoes throughout the room, making the furniture shudder, but Cornelia doesn't care; adrenaline is coursing through her veins like white-hot fire, the spark to the tinder that is her rebellious spirit that explodes with her pent-up anger. She can usually reel it back in, tell herself to calm down even when her body parts sting from his hand, but now she won't, because she's got enough of this imbecile, this - this _monster_, and to hell that she's just going to just purse her lips and wear her pretty dresses while he carries off with his murderous intentions. He could do whatever he wanted with her, but he could not, could _not_ touch her children.

"You monster," she splutters. Could he not understand that he wanted to kill an infant that deserved the chance to live? That it was preposterous that a child have to feel disappointed in themselves for not being born a certain gender? "How could I have ever said yes when you proposed? How was I so blind? Why did I agree...agree…" She forces the words out of her mouth. "To kill my former husband?" Quickly blinking back tears that had built up in her eyes, she looks at him in the eye. "You've changed. You aren't that boy who approached me in sixth year anymore with a bouquet of roses and a charming smile. You're a monster."

His eyes flash with something unrecognizable - Hurt? Regret? But no, it can't be; he can't feel such raw human emotions anymore, not the monster that has taken his body - before smoothing out. "Well," he says, his voice suddenly sweet, but sickly sweet, lathered with dripping honey, "since the birth clearly wasn't successful, we can try again." He smiles at her, showing all his pointy teeth, but the smile is too gleaming, too broad to be genuine. "And again." He moves closer to her; she backs away into a wall, only to realize that by doing so, she has allowed herself to be cornered. "And again." His voice is a soft purr. He hungrily eyes her up and down, scrutinizing her every curve, and licks his lips like a predator ready to pounce upon his prey. (She doesn't like that malevolent gleam in his eye.) His arm whips out, trapping her in a square, and the other arm snakes up her body, inching dangerously close to her bosom. He deftly traps the bottom of her lip with his teeth.

She turns her face away. "Don't you dare," she spits out as if the words taste bad in her mouth, her face still turned away from him. "Don't you fucking _dare,_ you son of a bitch." The words have a sharp jagged edge to them like they are coated in thick poison.

He stares at her for a moment, his eyes betraying a hint of disbelief and - is it possible? - hurt. She blinks, and his gaze is cold and hard once more. She meets it with a burning glare of her own, and they make eye-contact for several tense, angry moments before he breaks away, his arms falling to his sides as he steps away from her. She breathes out a deep breath she didn't know she was holding.

"I'm sorry," he says finally, "for what I am about to do." He draws out his wand.

Her's is out in a flash. "You wouldn't," she says automatically, and then thinks; why wouldn't he?

"I would," he responds, and she feels a tinge of disappointment that is quickly replaced by anger. Of course he would, wouldn't he, she thinks bitterly. "Now move out of the way."

She briefly thinks about obeying him, pretending this never happened and moving on; she almost slaps herself right after the thought crosses her mind. She imagines her daughter's sparkling grey eyes and tinkling laugh and her rosy cheeks, and her resolve strengthens. "I won't let you win for all the Galleons the world has to offer," she grits out tightly, her tone laced with venom.

He sighs; it sounds almost regretful, but Cornelia knows better than that. "Then you leave me with no choice." He raises his wand.

Her eyes widen; he wasn't really going to do it, was he?

"Stu - "

And all she thinks is that she can't let her precious daughter leave this world before she cries out, "_Avada Kedavra_!"

There is a flash of emerald light - it casts flickering shadows across Cornelia's face - and then it fades, leaving behind a limp carcass.

She pockets her wand, sauntering towards him. She crouches down next to him, gathering it into her hands and pulled back his matted hair, revealing half-lidded eyes. She leans in closer to his lips, almost as if to close in the distance between them - and draws back abruptly and slaps him.

A resounding crack! pierces the air, the slap ricocheting off the walls. She stands up, casually brushing off her skirt. She kicks him away from her. "That's karma, you bitch," she says with relish; it feels unbearably good to announce that, to say it to the world. Her lips twist into a sinister smile, and she struts away from him, slamming the door behind her as she exits the room.

And somehow, the realization that he is gone, that he's cut away from her life and life entirely eases the burden from her shoulders and walking feels like floating.

* * *

A small boy, who's been watching the whole scene unfold with a sort of fascinated horror, rises up from a shadowed corner behind a dusty couch. He carefully tiptoes to the limp cadaver in the center of the room, prodding it carefully with his toe, and hesitantly picks up what he knows is a wand that lays near the man's open palm. He tests the weight of it in his hand. "_Avada Kedavra_," he says, his voice small in the cavernous room, but there is no green light.

There is only silence.

* * *

_A/N: Like it? Love it? Hate it? I'm excited for this one, but I'm not quite sure if I want to continue it, so review and tell me what you think about me continuing it or not! :D_

_In addition to having written this for pure fun, this was also written for several challenges in which I will list below:_

_Guess Who Challenge: Is it a boy?_

_Hogwarts Scavenger Hunt: Avada Kedavra_

_Greek Mythology Challenge: Apollo - Write about a destructive relationship_

_If You Dare Challenge: Prompt #131 - Dead_

_5, 10, 20 fandoms challenge: Fandom 1 - Harry Potter_

_The Harry Potter Day Competition 2015 - Entry for "Not Bad" category._

_Like it? Love it? Hate it? I'm excited for this one, but I'm not quite sure if I want to continue it, so review and tell me what you think about me continuing it or not! :D_


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